


figure my heart out

by chopins



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 17:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1477609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chopins/pseuds/chopins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Glancing up at the departures board, Harry shifts the bag on his shoulder and thanks whatever god listening at that moment that it’s the middle of the night, and that there aren’t any fans around. </i><br/> <br/>or the one where it all starts when liam texts harry in the middle of the night from eight timezones away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	figure my heart out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breathingashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathingashes/gifts).



> ahh this is my first fic and it's for sara's birthday so like. yeah. unbetaed and unbritpicked so any mistakes are my own. byeee

_heeeey harry_

_could you call me????_

_if not thats fineeeee_

_actually nevermind haha :) dont worrrrry about me :)_

Skimming his eyes over the texts from Liam that he had received just a few hours before, Harry has to wonder what, exactly, was going on. Generally, if Liam wanted to talk to him, he would just, you know, come right out and say it. Like the time that he thought Harry’s headscarf made him look like he was a zombie Mick Jagger… well. They never were a pair for beating around the bush.

Glancing up at the departures board, Harry shifts the bag on his shoulder and thanks whatever god listening at that moment that it’s the middle of the night, and that there aren’t any fans around. He wouldn’t be opposed, generally, but the worry was eating away at him in a major way. There was something very clearly going on in Liam’s head, and after none of the other boys responded to his texts _or_ his emojis, Harry felt like it was time to go back to London.

*

Generally, people had their ideas about Harry. He was used to it, after four and a half years of being in One Direction, he was used to the way they looked at him like the golden boy, like he was some socialite and the rest of them were his goddamned backup dancers. Just because he was used to it, didn’t mean he liked it.

Harry knew he was probably just perpetuating that stereotype, seeing as he had a house in Los Angeles that he escaped to more often than not when they had a break. He liked the sun, he didn’t think it was a crime. Every time a paparazzi caught him at the airport, however, news of him going solo and leaving the band behind sprung up across various outlets. 

He managed to sleep through most of the flight, only really waking up when they brought him a shitty scone and what he wasn’t sure would really pass as “tea” (he knew that the other boys - well, Louis - would be throwing an absolute fit if they saw it). It was from that point that he watched the sun rise over London as the plane descended. 

He was home. 

Escaping through Heathrow mostly unscathed, he caught a cab, which normally, he wouldn’t even consider. But he needed to get to the city, to Liam’s house in particular. Finally switching on his phone once he was settled in the back of the cab, he realizes he’s got some messages back from the others. 

_He didn’t text me, bro_

_no idea ! Back in Mullingar, mate_

_WHAT DOES THAT CATERPILLAR EVEN MEAN? IS LIAM GOING TO TURN INTO A BUTTERFLY, HARRY?_

Rolling his eyes and deciding that, essentially, they were no help, Harry settles in for the drive, only dozing off once or twice, until he hears the cabbie speaking and the movement slowing. 

“Twelve was the house number on that one, yeah?” he calls back to him and Harry rubs his hand over his eyes drowsily. 

“Yeah, mate, cheers.” he nods, leaning up closer to the window to watch as Liam’s house comes into view. Once the cab stops, Harry hops out of it, grabbing his duffel and slinging it over his shoulder. Sticking seventy-something pounds and a tip into the window, he nods to the man, before heading up to the gate. 

Pressing in the code, Harry is shocked to realize that the entire property just feels completely empty, eery in a way and he crosses to the front door, tapping out a rhythm that he _knows_ Liam will recognize, one he used on the Where We Are tour when he would sneak into his room late at night. 

Finally, the door opens and there he is, looking a hell of a lot worse for wear.

“Harry?” Liam asks, a scratchy tone to his voice as he rubs over his eyes once with both hands, clearly confused as to why he’s there, as to what he’s doing. Harry doesn’t blame him, he’s slightly confused about it himself. 

“Hiya Liam, are you going to let me in?” He questions and Liam just stares at him for a moment more, before finally moving back and motioning for him to come inside. He does, all the while appreciating the image of Liam in only a pair of joggers. He feels horridly overdressed, in his two plaid shirts and skinny jeans.

Glancing around, Harry notices that the place just feels empty, in a way he can’t exactly put his finger on. Before he could speak though, mention it, Liam’s speaking again and Harry’s left to answer his questions. “What are you - I thought you were in LA?” Harry lets out a sigh, shrugging before he speaks. 

“I was. But now I’m here and I’ve not had any proper breakfast, do you have frosties?” Harry asks, brushing past him. In the next moment, he’s moving into the kitchen, the one that Liam barely uses, Sophia’s always the one who cooks, because if she didn’t, they would be eating ramen every day. The packaged kind, not the kind from Wagamama. 

It’s then that it hits him, there’s absolutely no trace of Sophia. It’s like she hasn’t even lived there with Liam for the past eight months. 

Stopping in his tracks, he turns on his heel and reaches out, grabbing onto Liam’s arm somewhat manically. He’s a little sleep deprived, it’s fine. 

“Harry?” Liam asks again, and Harry supposes that he should probably try to stop doing things that make Liam confused, because he’s not sure how much more of the sincerely confused eyebrows he can take at half six in the morning. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asks, and Liam opens his mouth to say something, but he just barrells on. “About you and Sophia? That you broke up? You could have told me.” By the time he’s done, Liam’s eyes are on the floor and Harry mostly just feels bad. But also, not really, because Liam should have told him. 

“It just happened. A few days ago.” Liam mutters, his voice low and stilted. Harry lets out a bit of a sigh and takes a small step closer to him. Liam’s head jerks up, staring at him through wide eyes. “I’ve known for a while, though. We weren’t working. She wanted someone who could be here.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, one that you would miss if you weren’t listening. Luckily, Harry is listening with every fiber of his being. 

“You told the other lads?” Harry asks and Liam shakes his head. Somehow, he knows but at the same time, he wants to hear it. He needs to hear Liam say it. He was probably pushing too hard, Liam’s just gone through a breakup, the second in only a few years. But he’s selfish, Harry’s always been just a bit selfish. Particularly with Liam. “Liam.” He whispers, staring at him. Liam doesn’t back down, not like Harry expects him to. 

“Wanted you. Not them.” Liam says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world and Harry’s eyes lock on his. He takes a step forward and Liam’s fingers twitch forward, as if he wants to grab onto Harry, but he doesn’t. Harry wishes he would, but he also needs more. 

“Why, Liam? Why didn’t you call Lou? He’s your best friend.” Harry challenges, a dark look in his eye because he needs to hear it. He needs Liam to say it, to ease his fears that he’s not just imagining the whole thing himself. Liam swallows roughly, and Harry’s eyes follow the movement of his throat. 

“I want you, Harry. I have since tour, if I’m honest.” Liam’s voice breaks as he speaks and Harry bites down on his lip. It’s everything he wants, and more, but. 

“I’m not going to be your rebound.” He whispers, taking a step closer to him and reaching out first this time, grabbing onto Liam’s hand. Liam stills, staring at him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he knows he wants this, he’s wanted this since nights in his hotel room in a nameless city in America. He’s wanted it since they would get so close, so close to touching and then one of them would break away and whisper ‘ _I can’t_ ’. 

He’s wanted Liam through all of that. 

There’s a beat of silence and Harry breathes in deep, trying to focus himself, trying to tell himself it’s fine, that Liam’s just taking a moment, that he won’t actually be a rebound. And then, finally, he speaks, a quiet “you couldn’t ever be.” Harry’s head jerks up and he stares at the boy, no - man, Liam’s definitely a man now, in front of him. 

“Liam.” Harry whispers, and it’s really all he needs, the push he needs, and Liam’s moving forward, lips pressing against his roughly. There’s nothing soft about the kiss, and Harry guesses that Liam needs it this way. Likely, he’s been alone in the house since Sophia left, and he probably just needs to feel something. Something that Harry’s all too willing to give to him.

There’s a flurry of hands and Harry manages to get his hooked on the hem of Liam’s joggers, thumbs slipping beneath the fabric teasingly as they kiss. Liam’s hands are tangled in his messy curls, and he tugs on them just enough to make him moan into the kiss. Harry feels dangerous as he pushes Liam towards the couch just outside of the kitchen in the sitting room. 

It’s hardly graceful, but he finds that he doesn’t really care that much. It can be as ungraceful as ever, and he would still want it.

Once they’re on the couch, Harry gets Liam pressed back into it, and he settles down in between his legs. His hands run up his thighs and he looks up at Liam through his eyelashes, a question almost on his lips, but not quite there. Liam seems to sense this and reaches down, his fingers carding through Harry’s hair carefully.

“I want this,” he reassures him, and that’s when he goes for it. Reaching up, Harry tugs down his joggers, and his cock springs free, half hard already and he grins. Taking it in his hand, he jerks it a few times, dry and fast as he rocks up on his knees to press a messy kiss against Liam’s lips. It isn’t long before he feels his cock fattening up in his hand and he settles back down, satisfied. 

“Don’t hold back on me now, Liam.” Harry warns, before he takes his cock into his mouth, sinking down as far as he can manage. It’s not his first time giving a blowjob, not by any means, but it’s the first time that he’s ever given one to someone as big as Liam, so it’s a bit of a new experience for him. 

Liam’s hips rock up experimentally, and Harry rolls his eyes, reaching down to pinch at his ass, before slipping both hands underneath his body, to try to get him to rock up into his mouth. He’s rock hard in his jeans, just from this, and if that isn’t slightly embarrassing, he doesn’t know what is. 

He finally seems to get the hint, and finally, Liam starts to fuck into his mouth. Harry sucks down his cock as far as he can, the blunt tip of it hitting the back of his throat and he gags slightly around him. His tongue finds the vein in the underside and toys with it, smirking around his dick before Liam’s tugging insistently at his hair. 

There’s a flash of uncertainty in Liam’s eyes as Harry doesn’t let up, doesn’t pull off. If anything, he just redoubles his efforts and it takes just a moment or two before Liam is coming down his throat. Choking only slightly, he pulls off of his dick finally, wiping the back of his hand over his lips before he uses Liam’s thighs as leverage and pushes himself up to be able to kiss him. 

“You’re so fuckin’ hard.” Liam mumbles against his lips and Harry laughs, because, well, _yeah_. Letting him get at the button and the zip, it’s not long before Liam’s hand is shoved into his pants, and Harry’s rocking against the friction, whining in the back of his throat. “You look so fucking pretty, wanted this for so long, Harry.” It’s hardly more than a whisper, but it has him burying his face in Liam’s neck, hips working almost frantically against his hand. 

“Since that day in Mexico City last tour, do you remember? We were drunk in my hotel room and I could feel you the morning after, and _fuck_.” Liam swears, and the sound of it is enough. Harry topples over the edge, his orgasm washing over him as he comes messily in his pants. 

Slumping against him, Harry holds on for dear life, not sure what else he could do at that moment, other than just hold onto Liam. There’s a moment of silence, of utter, wrecking silence between them and it’s just a little bit terrifying. 

But then, Liam’s arms come up, wrapping around him and Harry relaxes, just settling against his body, despite the mess in his pants. He’ll clean up in a bit, because at that moment, all he needs is the feeling of Liam there, of knowing he’s alright.

But then Liam’s pushing at him slightly, and Harry leans back, looking at him with a sort of concerned look. Liam’s hand comes up, brushing at the side of his lips and he looks down sort of sheepishly. “Shower?” He asks so softly that Harry would have missed it if he wasn’t listening. Nodding, he bounces off of Liam, reaching down for his hand, feeling like everything was finally going to fall into place how he’d been hoping it would for the past year.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! you can hit me up on tumblr [here](http://louniall.tumblr.com).


End file.
